


Made For You

by nookienostradamus



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Basically my headcanon Elijah, Blood, But also needy, But they grew up together, Come Eating, Crying, Cuddling, Drinking, Elijah is creepy, Flashbacks, Gavin is reluctant, Hand Jobs, How Gavin got his scar, Injury, Let the judging begin, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Elijah/Chloe, Nicknames, Oral Sex, Parent Death, Possessiveness, Pseudo Incest, Rimming, Serious moral ambiguity, Shame, Submission, Uncomfortable Attraction, and childish, closeness, conflicted feelings, they're not related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 16:25:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16411904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nookienostradamus/pseuds/nookienostradamus
Summary: It's been twelve years since Detective Gavin Reed has seen or spoken to his foster brother, Elijah. But the insecure, weird, brilliant young man Gavin remembers was busy changing the world and getting richer than God.All that would be enough to drive a wedge between any two people, but that's not the reason that Gavin and Elijah drifted apart. Far from it. So when Gavin accepts an invitation to Elijah's chateau in the mountains, he's not sure what to expect. And he's even less sure that either of them will be able to move past the incidents—or push down the desperately confusing feelings—that have haunted their relationship for so long.





	Made For You

**Author's Note:**

> It's the Gavski no one asked for, wanted, or needed. Exactly what it says on the tin. A lot of fucked-up feelings stirred into the mix here. If the idea icks you out, might wanna just let this one go. You were warned.

Gavin really tried not to let himself be overwhelmed by the mountaintop retreat. He really did. But god _damn_ , Elijah had done well for himself. The glass, stone, and steel complex sprawled out over a hillside covered in white and purple wildflowers.

Absently, Gavin thought he might ought to pop an allergy pill.

One of the blonde androids opened the front door, which was a slab of some kind of golden wood and was probably twice Gavin’s height.

“Hey,” he said, re-adjusting his beat-up Adidas duffel bag on his shoulder. “Chloe, right?”

“Yes,” she said, with a demure dip of her pointed chin. “You must be Detective Reed.”

“Uh, yep,” he said. “I guess you can call me Gavin.”

“Gavin,” said Chloe, “please come in. Elijah is excited to see you.”

However hard he found that to believe, Gavin still stepped into the lofty entry hall. A weird chandelier made up of odd-shaped chunks of translucent glass dangled from the high ceiling. The floor was polished and looked like nobody had ever walked on it. It might have been marble, but what the fuck did Gavin really know? The closest he got to marble was the synthetic stuff that made up the top of the sink in his bathroom.

He couldn’t help gaping a little bit at the scale of the place, which seemed even bigger on the inside.

Chloe’s high heels clicked on the shiny floor. “Elijah has asked me to show you where you can set your bag down.” She looked back toward Gavin. “An entire suite was opened and cleaned for your visit. Elijah told me that you might not understand his eagerness to reconnect, but he _is_ eager. Very much so.”

“Said that, did he?” Gavin asked.

Another look over her pale shoulder. “Mm-hm.”

“He make you wear those heels?”

Chloe turned with a smile that might have been a little condescending.

Gavin wasn’t sure.

“Elijah doesn’t make me do anything I don’t choose to,” she said. “We’ve had a mutually beneficial partnership for a long time now.”

Gavin wasn’t sure what that meant at all, but knowing Elijah it could be anything from having someone to bounce ideas off of to, well, a _fuckbot_.

Of course, saying _knowing Elijah_ probably wasn’t accurate on any count. It had been twelve years since Gavin had even spoken to his foster brother. Then, out of the blue, after this whole android revolution thing went down, he’d gotten a message from Elijah on his birthday.

 

_I never stopped thinking about you, little brother._

 

It wasn’t a birthday wish and it was honestly pretty creepy. But then again, Elijah had been fairly creepy—and more than a little socially awkward—since they were boys. Gavin was sure that one of the last things he’d said to Elijah was something to the effect of _You can’t get a date so you have to make one_.

He wasn’t particularly proud of that.

And although Elijah’s obsessive tinkering had seemed ridiculous at the time, things like Chloe were the end result. _People like Chloe_ , he guessed he should say, since they were citizens or something now.

Elijah never could do anything by half measures. If he’d wanted to help people, he could have made robots that looked like huge boxes with lots of arms, or fucking C-3PO from Star Wars. But no—he gave his helpers faces and personalities and feelings...and ultimately a will of their own.

Gavin would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in what Elijah made of all this.

Still, it had been his brother’s refusal to stop when he should have that drove Gavin away. And Gavin was just as curious about whether certain other things had changed, or if Elijah would be just as relentless as ever.

Chloe led Gavin through an enormous living room with a few minimalist couches lining its edges. Aside from a silly-looking abstract sculpture sitting on a chunk of rock near the center of the room, that was basically it for furniture. Not that the room needed it; the main attraction was the view. One entire semicircular wall was nothing but glass from floor to ceiling looking out on the rest of the meadow where the house sat and beyond that to a river valley with actual snow-capped mountains in the distance.

It was close to the prettiest thing Gavin had ever seen. He decided in that second that he would go crazy after more than a few days up here. He was a city rat through and through. It might smell awful and be full to the brim with idiots and lunatics, but Detroit at least had a few places within walking distance to get a late-night pizza.

Maybe Elijah had it helicoptered in. Maybe he didn’t eat pizza anymore.

Maybe he didn’t _eat_.

If he’d whipped up artificial life in a lab, maybe he had a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory pill that you popped once a day instead of stopping for meals. Oh, jeez—there had been that one old, old science fiction book that Elijah used to love. The people on some planet had special suits that recycled your piss back into water. Just let it go in your pants and sip it right back up through a straw.

Gavin remembered being grossed out by the idea then, and it was still gross as he remembered it. The only time he ever planned to piss himself was the day someone put a bullet in his skull. He’d been around enough dead bodies; piss, shit—it all let go when you died.

He followed Chloe into the biggest damn bedroom he’d ever seen, hotel rooms included. The bed had to be a California king and there was enough space in the wardrobes lining the walls to hold ten times the amount of clothes Gavin owned.

Eyes wide, he dropped his duffel on the bed and wandered into the attached bathroom. If possible, it was bigger than the bedroom. That was only because—in addition to the regular shower-tub-toilet combo—it branched off with a couple of steps up to another terrace area, also facing out to the mountains. There was an antigrav recliner next to a hot tub, and pushed almost right up against the huge window was a tiny little swimming pool. Right next to _that_ was a wet bar, so you didn’t have to walk more than two feet to re-up your Jack and Coke before getting back into the pool.

“Fuck _me_ ,” Gavin whispered.

“The bar is fully stocked,” Chloe said, right at Gavin’s shoulder.

He jumped a little and turned his head.

“If you’d like, I’ll show you the control panel for the whirlpool tub and the infinity pool.”

“‘Infinity pool?’” Gavin asked.

Chloe nodded. “When engaged, it creates a steady current to swim against.”

“Doing laps without moving,” Gavin said. He’d actually been on swim team in high school: junior and senior year. Elijah had graduated at fifteen and by the time Gavin got his diploma, his brother had already blown a full ride at MIT by not showing up to classes.

Mom had been pissed beyond belief. Gavin remembered the night Elijah came back from Boston. He hadn’t even set his suitcases down before she was full-on screaming at him. No matter how mad she’d gotten at Gavin for the stupid-ass stunts he’d pulled, he had _never_ seen her that angry.

Angela Duquette Reed had been a short and slight woman, and never prone to physical violence. But it seemed like the whole world stopped inside that house when Gavin watched her slap Elijah across the cheek, hard. Knocked his glasses right off his face and sent his long hair flying.

She’d been immediately horrified, but Gavin could see the damage was done. That act hurt Elijah way deeper than just the temporary pain. She’d apologized later; Gavin had heard them talking quietly in Elijah’s bedroom for a long time. But that night, Elijah had come into Gavin’s room and quietly joined him underneath the covers, his narrow back to Gavin’s chest. Gavin had held him while he cried into the pillow.

Looking back, maybe that had been the event that set off the gradual breakdown of his and Elijah’s relationship over the years that followed.

Gavin hadn’t expected much pushback from his parents when he announced that instead of applying to colleges he planned to enter the police academy. He pretty much knew Elijah had been the scion. He wasn’t a Reed by blood, but he carried the hope of the family.

As it turned out, their mom and dad didn’t get to see him found the company that would become Cyberlife. They didn’t get to see Gavin’s academy graduation, either, because two and a half months after Elijah’s return from Boston, their SUV went over a guardrail and into a creek swollen with spring rain.

Because Gavin and Elijah were both over eighteen, the cops told them that Angela and Brandon had drowned—that they were still alive when the car came to rest upside-down in the streambed.

Their mom’s sister came over from Minnesota to plan the funeral. Gavin got wasted three nights in a row, then coasted through, numb, until the academy convened in the fall. Elijah was a fucking ghost. He wasn’t around much, and when he was, he’d wear the same clothes for days on end and Gavin would literally have to kick his ass to get him into the shower.

With the money their parents left them, Elijah would start his company. Under his birth name, Kamski. Gavin paid for the academy and bought a truck.

After a while, the two brothers would come back around again, start talking to each other, having takeout and beer on the floor of Elijah’s “artistic co-living space” or whatever it was called.

But Elijah had never been the same after the accident, not really.

“If you’d like to freshen up, I’ll leave you to explore,” Chloe said. “Elijah knows you’ve arrived. He’d very much like to see you when you’re done.”

“Um, yeah. Okay,” Gavin said.

“Great,” said Chloe. To Gavin’s surprise, she put a soft hand on his shoulder. “We’re glad to have you here, Gavin.”

He thanked her and she left the suite.

After debating it for a minute, Gavin went to the bar and poured himself a double of what, after a sniff test, he was pretty sure was whiskey. The print on the bottle might have been Japanese. Whatever it was, it was good: smooth and not too smoky.

He knew it wouldn’t matter, but Gavin decided on a quick shower, anyway. He changed into a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and washed down his just-in-case allergy pill with the last swallow of whiskey.

There was a person—a man—sitting on one of the couches in the huge living room when Gavin walked in. He had dark hair: long on top and shaved around the sides and back, the long part knotted carelessly to keep it up and out of the way. His skin was so fish-belly pale that Gavin actually worried he might have a vitamin D deficiency. It looked even paler against the black fabric of the kimono-thing he wore hanging open with ties trailing over a pair of lounge pants.

 _Another android, maybe?_ Some of the ones Gavin had seen were that same sickly white.

Gavin cleared his throat.

The guy stood up and turned around.

Just then, Gavin was glad he hadn’t brought the whiskey glass or he would have dropped it.

“Hey, Runt,” Elijah said.

“H-hey, Nerd,” Gavin stammered. “Jesus. I’d never know it was you.”

Elijah smiled. Looked like he’d fixed that one crooked tooth. “A lot of things have changed.”

Stepping closer confirmed that this weird apparition definitely was his brother. He’d lost the beard and the glasses. The Elijah of twelve years ago had still been gangly, but now Gavin could see muscle definition underneath his tight t-shirt: pecs, the ripple of abs. “You can say that again,” Gavin said, still struggling with what he was seeing.

“You look just the same,” Elijah told him. “Still have your swimmer’s shoulders. That scar.” Elijah touched the bridge of his own nose to indicate the pinkish line of scar tissue in the same place on Gavin’s face. “C’mere.” He held out his arms.

Hesitating only a little, Gavin went into his embrace.

Elijah didn’t seem to have a spare ounce of fat on him; his biceps were strung with tough muscle.

Gavin was no slouch with the workouts, but he didn’t have all damn day to tone and train.

He let his arms drop after a few seconds, but Elijah hung on. He was wearing some kind of scent, though it was faint. Gavin wondered whether it was an everyday thing or whether he’d put it on for Gavin’s arrival. With Elijah, it was impossible to know.

Finally, Elijah let him loose, but he placed his hands briefly on either side of Gavin’s neck and bent to kiss the scar on his nose. It was, after all, his fault...in a way. “You’re still short,” he whispered.

Gavin squirmed loose, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. “You’re still weird.” Elijah looked a little stung by the comment, so Gavin followed up with: “Finally lost the glasses, huh?”

He grinned. “Lost the eyes. Complete ocular replacement. I had to design them. I was tempted to give myself a greater spectral range, but it’s not really clear how the human brain would process it.”

“Damn,” Gavin said. “They look the same. Pretty much.”

“I still want you to recognize me, little brother.” He smoothed one hand over Gavin’s floppy hair.

Gavin tried to brush it back into place with his fingers afterward. He needed a haircut.

“I hope Chloe made you feel welcome,” Elijah said, turning back toward the window. “She’s wonderful.”

“I thought you had...other ones,” Gavin said.

Elijah looked over. “It’s a new world now. They wanted lives and experiences. Who am I to deny them?”

“But one stayed.”

A nod. “The first. She and I have been through quite a bit together. She’s my partner.”

Gavin scratched his chin. “You, like, married or something?”

That made Elijah chuckle. “Hardly. But I can’t say we haven’t shared...intimacies.”

 _Fuckbot,_ Gavin thought.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Elijah said. “I’ve never done—and _would_ never do—anything without Chloe’s express consent. When you know someone for a long while, work side by side with them, live with them, there are certain inevitabilities.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’d call them ‘inevitable,’” said Gavin. Elijah still had that unique ability to make him squirm.

Elijah leaned in close. “Have you ever fucked one of my androids, Gavin?”

Gavin narrowed his eyes. “No.”

“I do recommend that you try it,” said Elijah. “They feel very human in many ways, and strikingly unfamiliar in others.” He turned entirely to face Gavin again and stroked the knuckle of his forefinger along the line of Gavin’s jaw. “You’re really quite handsome. I wonder if Chloe might like—”

Gavin slapped his hand down, annoyed. “Stop it, Elijah. I’m not going to...have sex with Chloe.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“I’m not like that,” Gavin said, feeling a flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Like what?”

He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Into _women_.”

“Ah,” said Elijah. “I like to be close to all beautiful things. But I understand.”

Gavin would have asked at that point whether Elijah had, as he’d said, “shared intimacies” with men, but he already knew. Was painfully aware of it, even. That knowledge was wrapped up in the emotional messiness around their mother’s death, the scar on Gavin’s nose, the event that had driven them apart for more than a decade.

Elijah managed to change the subject for the rest of the evening, but Gavin was still unsettled when he retreated to the enormous bedroom suite for the night.

He could never be sure of the exact catalyst, but Elijah had started looking at him differently after the night he climbed into his bed. Not that there had been anything tense or fraught that night: just a devastated young man seeking comfort from the person he’d been closest to since they were five years old. Elijah had clutched Gavin’s hand while his whole body shook with sobs. It seemed to go on forever—a whole adolescence full of pain and expectation and disappointment just pushed out endlessly in those tears.

Finally exhausted, Elijah had fallen asleep, and Gavin had drifted off with his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

The stares afterward, the hints: all of it Gavin had brushed off, thinking he was imagining things. It _felt_ like he felt nothing when Mom and Dad died, but he obviously _was_ feeling, because it playing tricks with his head. Making him think Elijah was...well, looking at him in a way that was less than brotherly.

Then, with a week to go before classes started at the academy, he and Elijah had decided to split a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue that had cost more than either of them could afford at the time. They ended up with animated films on the TV—stuff neither of them had seen for ten years—laughing their asses off and absolutely tanked.

Elijah especially had problems even sitting up. At one point, he laughed hard enough to tip himself over right into Gavin. The top of his skull knocked Gavin’s chin and they both toppled to the carpet. Sure, Gavin was still laughing, but because of the booze and the hit to his chin, he didn’t register for a long time that Elijah had pushed up his t-shirt and was pressing little kisses into the naked skin along the waistband of his jeans. In fact, it didn’t hit home until Elijah had unbuttoned those jeans and was tugging on the zipper.

Gavin shoved his hand away, still half-laughing. “What the hell, Lije?”

Elijah grinned drunkenly. “I want to.”

“Fuck off,” Gavin said, thinking that would be the end of it, that he wasn’t serious. But Elijah kept unzipping him, then he was snaking a skinny, pale hand into Gavin’s jeans.

Gavin convulsed, bucking him off, and scooted away. “No, dude!”

“They weren’t my parents,” Elijah said. “They never were.”

That—and what it implied about the sibling ties Gavin had taken for granted as long as he could remember—pissed Gavin right off. He took a swing at Elijah but missed, pitching (unfortunately) into his lap.

He should have known Elijah would turn out spare and cut and muscular, because the arm that he looped around Gavin’s chest and used to haul him upright, pull him close, was stronger than he would have thought.

“Gav,” Elijah had whispered against Gavin’s neck.

It made all the hairs there stand on end.

Then Elijah’s hand was in his pants again.

Because he was drunk, and because of a thousand other reasons that Gavin had thought about and tried to forget since then, he let Elijah have his way. In retrospect, he was surprised he’d even been able to get hard with all the liquor running through his system, but somehow it happened.

Gavin hadn’t had a lot of encounters then; a few of the women in his class wanted to get with him, and he was too scared to tell them he wasn’t interested. But almost blind drunk and with his goddamn foster brother clumsily squeezing and stroking him, he was painfully hard nearly right away. In a few seconds, he was breathing fast and pushing into Elijah’s hand. Gavin remembered the kiss at the base of his neck just beforehand, but he didn’t remember coming.

He knew that he had, though, because when he heaved himself away and buttoned up and rolled over to look at his brother, Elijah was licking the back of his hand, sucking his long fingers clean of Gavin’s come.

Gavin wanted to say he was horrified, but he hadn’t been. Maybe it was the booze.

“Going to bed,” he said, and stumbled down the short hall. At that time, he’d had this huge, ugly iron bed frame that he inexplicably loved. Or would, at least, up until the next morning. Wasted and reeling with confused emotion, Gavin got two or three steps into his tiny bedroom, then his feet were suddenly tangled in the pile of dirty clothes beside the bed. He might have had the reflexes to catch himself if he’d been sober, but that night he keeled over and hit the bed frame hard, his face taking the brunt.

White and black dots had danced in his vision for a few long seconds. Gavin could actually feel the split skin flexing and gaping before the pain set in. Going back out to ask Elijah for help was the last thing he wanted, and both of them were too hammered to drive to the ER. So he crammed a shirt from the pile near the bed against his face and passed the fuck out on the bare mattress.

When he’d woken up the next day with a skull-hammering headache, the shirt was soaked through with blood, some of which hadn’t even dried yet. Pulling the fabric away made the wound start bleeding again. Next to the bed, Elijah was curled up like a cat in the middle of the leaking beanbag chair, one hand touching his lips, fast asleep.

Wincing, Gavin had stepped right over him, snagged a dish rag from the kitchen on the way out the door, and somehow managed to get his truck to the urgent care clinic. He walked out with seven stitches, two black eyes, and prescription for Oxy.

They didn’t talk about what happened that night for years afterward. It probably would never have come up again if it hadn’t been for Elijah.

The next time—the last time—he’d been flying high after his prototype passed something he called a “Turing test.” Gavin didn’t ask what that was about, but apparently it was a big deal. He’d called the as-yet-unnamed prototype “she” long before it could think for itself. It— _she_ —was there at the party. A weird, naked thing: white and pulsing with blue stuff. Eyes that looked eerily human.

Fuck...what was that old-ass video series? _Annoying Orange_.

It was the prototype and a bunch of scientists and Elijah...and then Gavin, the only representative from an outside world where there were things other than lab coats and circuits. He stood to the side for most of it, nursing a beer. When it was just him and Elijah—and the android—he at least had a chance to talk to his brother.

Apparently the test was meant to determine whether an artificial intelligence was actually thinking for itself and not just running a zillion data points from all of human history. Making new thoughts never thought by anything with a wet, squishy brain. Gavin didn’t like to think about brains; he’d seen them on the outside way too often.

 _Celebrate with me_ , Elijah had said. He’d wiggled his hips to the song that was still playing, moving in close to Gavin and nipping with his crooked tooth at Gavin’s neck.

Gavin had shoved him away, but Elijah wasn’t having it. He crowded Gavin again, this time putting his big hand over Gavin’s crotch. And Gavin would never forget the words he said right before he got thrown to the floor:

 

_Let me touch you again, little brother. You made me hungry._

 

At that point, Gavin was still more solid than Elijah, so he’d shoved hard and sent him sprawling on the lab tiles.

Righting his glasses, Elijah asked, “What’s wrong?”

“This!” Gavin shouted. “ _This_ is wrong! What the fuck, Elijah?”

He’d stood up, looking proud and cold, a hint of what was to come, maybe. “I’m a Kamski. Not a Reed. We’re not blood, Gavin. I don’t understand why it bothers you; I’m closer to you than anybody on earth. I don’t want to throw this away on someone who doesn’t know me, doesn’t know what I need.”

“I _don’t_ know you,” Gavin shot back. “We live in two different worlds. We barely even talk. You’ve got reporters lining up to interview you. Me? I’ve got another five years before I even make detective. Go be the golden boy, Lije. It’s what Mom wanted.”

“Don’t call her that.”

“She was my mother!” Gavin shouted. “And she was yours, too. That doesn’t change just because you get a sudden urge to...fuck me or something.”

Elijah went very still. “Not sudden. Always.”

Gavin shook his head. “Jesus, Elijah. Get some help. Find somebody to get close to.” He’d pointed over into the corner, where the odd prototype sat, watching. “Try _that_.” He’d dropped the beer bottle in a plastic bin that read BIOHAZARD, and left the lab.

What Elijah wanted to do was horrible, sick, perverted. That hadn’t stopped a still-worked-up Gavin from tearing open his pants the moment he got in his door and jerking off hard and fast, shouting behind his teeth as he spattered the tile in the entry hall.

And it certainly didn’t stop him from thinking right after he’d come that _he_ was horrible, sick, and perverted, too.

Well, apparently Elijah had, indeed, turned to his Chloe for physical satisfaction. And more.

In the enormous bathroom, Gavin studied his face in the mirror for a few seconds, then scrubbed his eyes hard. Instead of brushing his teeth and heading to bed, though, he went back to the bar and poured out another few fingers of that whiskey. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, head propped against his palm, trying to calm the furious storm of thoughts.

There was a knock on the door, soft.

Gavin snapped to attention, raising his head. “Chloe?”

“It’s me,” Elijah said.

With a sigh, Gavin got up and opened the door a few inches. “What do you want?”

“I want things to be comfortable between us. The way they used to be.”

Gavin sighed again, but turned away and let Elijah come into the room. “I don’t know if that’s possible, Lije.”

“You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

“Well,” Gavin said, knocking back a slug of the whiskey, “before today I hadn’t called you _anything_ in a long time.”

“Why?” asked Elijah.

“You _know_ why. If you want it to be comfortable, why do you keep making things awkward?”

Elijah tried for a smile, but there was no mirth behind it. “I guess I can’t help myself. I built a company, built a whole empire. I’m the richest man on the planet by an order of magnitude. I changed my body, my hair, my life, moved halfway around the world. But I couldn’t ever get you out of my head, Gav. What your hand felt like when I held it, what you taste like—”

“Aw, Christ,” Gavin said.

Elijah’s face went stony, but it looked like he was trying to cover another feeling. He stood silent for a few seconds. Then he said, “I’ll have them pick you up at the helipad tomorrow morning.”

Gavin drained his glass. “I don’t want to leave. You’re my brother. I _miss_ you.” He turned to Elijah. “But maybe I should go. Because that’s the problem. You’re my _brother_ , Elijah.”

“I loved Brandon and Angela. And I—” he grabbed at thin air, looking frustrated. “I wasn’t really ever part of the family. Not yours, and not the one I was born to. Look at me: I had to make my own family, create them out of parts.”

Gavin’s eyes were stinging. “Well, I _tried_ to make you part of it! I wanted a brother more than anything. I didn’t give a shit if you were older than me, or if you didn’t look like us. I wanted somebody to share secrets with, things I wouldn’t tell anybody else. You were _there_ , Lije. Then you _weren’t_.”

“I know that Angela and Brandon wanted to give you a brother,” Elijah said. “Angela told me that you weren’t even supposed to happen, that having another baby might have killed her. So they got me. Your parents got me for _you_. A gift. I belong to you, Gavin. Not my birth parents, or the Reeds. _You_.”

“Dammit, Elijah—”

A tear slipped out of each of Elijah’s replacement eyes, one after the other, sliding down his pale cheeks. “I don’t want to think about you walking out of here and never talking to me again. It might kill me.”

Gavin felt wrung out. “It wasn’t because you came on to me that I stopped talking to you. Not because I didn’t want it. It was because I _did_. And that scared the shit out of me, Lije. It still does. I wanted you to be so different that I wouldn’t feel that anymore.” He felt the tear that was swimming above his lower lashes let go. It trickled through his scruff, going cool. “But you’re the same—the same insecure, weird...fucking _nerd_ you always were.”

He stepped closer and hugged Elijah around the waist.

Elijah in turn put his arms around Gavin’s neck and made a little sob-laugh sound into his shoulder. “And you’re still the same douchebag, pretty boy jock.”

“I’m not pretty,” Gavin said, a feeble protest. Elijah’s hand was on his cheek.

“ _So_ pretty,” Elijah insisted, then kissed the opposite cheekbone.

They stood there for a moment, holding each other, pressed tight together.

Elijah whispered, “Gavin.”

“What do you want?” Gavin repeated, all softness this time.

Clutching at him, Elijah said, “Your cock in my mouth. Want to suck you off, Gav. Need to taste you again.”

Gavin had to struggle to make words come. “Elijah, I—“

His eyes still brimming with tears, Elijah clutched Gavin’s face. “Let me try. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. All you have to do is say.” He bit his lip, in all likelihood knowing it looked flirtatious, even submissive.

Gavin was breathing hard, fighting the urge to run. Fighting an urge just as strong to take hold of that silly topknot and pull it hard, bring Elijah down to his knees.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to.

Elijah moved his hands to Gavin’s hips, dragging at and stretching the fabric of his jeans as he went down hard to his knees on the tile. It couldn’t have felt good, but it didn’t seem to matter to him. He was pressing his face into Gavin’s crotch, dragging his lips over the worn and rumpled denim.

Gavin reached out, but then pulled back a little, drawing his fingers into a loose fist. Finally, he made up his mind and grabbed the knot of Elijah’s hair—hard. He heard a gasp and felt fingers tighten on his hips.

Elijah clearly expected him to drag him away.

Instead, he made a short sound low in his throat, gripped Elijah’s hair tighter, and crushed his brother’s face against the front of his pants.

Instead of fighting, Elijah moaned and dug his fingertips into Gavin’s jeans-clad ass.

Gavin let out a breath, hard, and shook Elijah by the hair, just slightly. “Do it,” he hissed. Another shake. “ _Do it_.”

Elijah made another helpless sound and then reached up to pull hard on the button of Gavin’s jeans. When it gave, he kept pulling, prying the zipper apart tooth by tooth.

A fingernail scratched the skin beside Gavin’s hip bone: Elijah’s fingers under the waistband of his boxers. He tugged them away, right to Gavin’s knees.

Gavin slammed the bedroom door when he felt fingers wrapped around the base of his cock. The warm, wet mouth that closed over him made him holler, then snap his jaw shut with a sharp click. He didn’t want Chloe to hear or come running.

Not that he’d ever personally experienced it, but Gavin guessed somewhere between their early twenties and now, Elijah had gotten a fair bit of practice sucking cock, because he had practically swallowed Gavin down to the root. _Gavin_ , who wasn’t exactly small in the junk department.

He told himself not to look down, then promptly ignored his own warning. Elijah’s pale pink lips were stretched around his girth, going steadily pinker as he sucked.

As if he knew he was being watched, Elijah glanced up with those pale blue eyes. With absolute intent, he moved forward and the head of Gavin’s cock slipped over the back of his tongue into the tight channel of his throat.

Gavin could feel him trying to swallow around it; the erratic pressure was maddening. A thin stream of saliva leaked from the corner of Elijah’s mouth and ran down his chin. “Fuck,” Gavin whimpered. “Oh, _fuck_.” He squeezed his eyes shut. It was ridiculous to think about holding out. Elijah wouldn’t give a shit how long he lasted or judge him if it was only a minute or two.

He’d probably be _proud_ if he could make Gavin come in record time.

That moment would be the only point in the night when Gavin just wanted to get things over with, because he was still lucid enough to register that his cock was currently jammed down his brother’s throat. The kid he’d gone to summer camp with, defended against jackass bullies, envied violently for his amazing mind.

But then the new Elijah—this strange, pale, and sleek-looking creature—was making wet, _obscene_ noises around his cock, gripping the base hard with one hand and stroking the other along the crease under Gavin’s ass cheek. It was incredibly fucking good, and incredibly fucking _wrong_ , and that was becoming a way bigger part of the reason _why_ it was so good.

It was all downhill from there; then he was picturing pulling away and coming all over Elijah’s face or shooting off onto the floor and grinding that face onto the tile while Elijah tried to lick the mess up.

 _You made me do this, Elijah. Made me_ want _this. I’ll make you pay_.

“Fuck,” Gavin ground out again. “I’m gonna come. Right down your fucking throat.”

Elijah hummed indulgently and grabbed a handful of Gavin’s ass.

Right before his vision went white, Gavin gave a couple seconds’ thought to what he’d do next. If this was happening, then he wasn’t planning to let up for a long time. If Elijah had gone so slavishly into this act, there was probably no doubt he’d let Gavin fuck him. He wanted this broader, bulked-up Elijah giving over to him completely, letting himself be handled.

Gavin set his feet as wide as he could with his jeans around his knees and pushed into Elijah’s mouth, still holding him by the hair. Then he clenched his teeth and let out a series of low grunts as he came.

Elijah shivered and squirmed, his throat working madly around Gavin’s cock.

When Gavin pulled suddenly away, Elijah hauled in a deep breath, a stream of mingled spit and come spilling over his reddened lower lip and dripping from his chin to the floor. Licking his lips, he looked up at Gavin. Naked need for approval was written over his face.

Gavin stepped in and stroked his wet chin, his cheek. “Look at you, Lije. You’re a mess.”

A fawning Elijah kissed his palm and then closed his lips around his thumb, moving his tongue around and over it.

“Stand up,” Gavin said. “C’mere. Let me see you.”

When Elijah came up off his knees, he was visibly hard behind his lounge pants. A damp spot spread over the flimsy fabric where his cock was steadily leaking.

“You _did_ want that,” Gavin said, still in slight disbelief.

“That,” Elijah said, then swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, “and more. Anything you’ll give me, Gav. I don’t care what it is. Just be near to me. Hit me, hurt me. Just keep touching me.”

“Not going to hit you, Lije.” Gavin’s throat went tight as he remembered the sight of his petite mother slapping Elijah hard enough to put him off balance. He put his hand at his brother’s waist, felt the muscles right under the skin flexing there. All of the tough resolve he’d felt before drained out. Elijah seemed fragile, like he might break apart in Gavin’s hands.

Cautiously, because he’d been burned before, Elijah ducked his head and teased the skin of Gavin’s neck with lips and teeth.

Gavin seized his face, pressing his cheeks in, and drew him up so he could fit their mouths together.

Elijah kissed with messy desperation until Gavin tugged gently at his hair again, a way to keep him measured and tamed.

The taste of his own come on his brother’s tongue was sharp. It felt all the more illicit and terrible for being forced into his mouth with such raw enthusiasm. With a hand at the back of Elijah’s neck, fingertips in the close-shaved hair, Gavin hauled Elijah toward him. The strong taste started to melt away.

What a thought: discovering the flavor of his brother’s mouth and wondering with actual desire what he tasted like elsewhere. It felt like having to understand everything all over again. Gavin recognized the scent of Elijah’s skin, the acrid smell of his sweat. Once, when he was absolutely sure no one would see, he’d taken a pair of Elijah’s shorts and sniffed along the middle seam. They hadn’t been un-self consciously naked around each other since they’d both started growing hair under their arms.

And—God help him—Gavin wanted just what Elijah did, only he kept a better lid on it. He _did_ want to know how Elijah’s cock felt in his grip. He was thirty-six now and had a lot more experience with the bodies he wanted to touch—men’s bodies. The ways they felt different from his own, and how they were the same.

When Gavin was with another guy, he always focused on his partner’s body—what he could get from it, what he could do to make it respond. But almost any time he’d been alone, touching himself, it had been Elijah on his mind.

Elijah, who was right then skimming his fingers underneath the hem of Gavin’s shirt.

Gavin pushed him away, but playfully, and pulled the t-shirt off himself.

For a second, Elijah just gave him a dark look.

 _You made me hungry_.

Then he shrugged his own shirt off. His chest was broad and pale and sculpted.

Gavin put a hand right over his breastbone. “You wax? Vain motherfucker.”

Elijah shrugged. “Laser. I never had any more than a handful of hairs. Not like you.” He put his own hand out and settled it in the patch of hair between Gavin’s pecs.

For the first time, Gavin noticed his nails were trimmed and shaped, and painted with clear lacquer. He shook his head.

Not that anyone was watching, but they probably looked ridiculous just then: Gavin with his jeans still bunched below his knees, Elijah shirtless but with an erection pulling the waistband of his pants away from his belly.

Gavin dropped his hand and bent to rid himself of the jeans. When he stood up again, Elijah was stepping out of the lounge pants. It gave Gavin a little shock to see he was completely shaved—or lasered—with not even a hint of dark stubble around the base of his cock. Gavin himself trimmed regularly, but wouldn’t ever go so far as to take a razor to his balls.

It _worked_ for Elijah, though. “Goddamn,” Gavin breathed. “You look...fucking incredible.”

“I hoped you’d see,” Elijah said. “Someday.”

“Don’t say you did it for me,” Gavin told him, but there was no disapproval behind the words. He trailed a fingertip down the flat belly, dipping briefly into his navel. “Makin’ me feel like a slouch.”

“You don’t understand, Gav,” Elijah said. “You’re perfect. You’re the man I wanted to be for years. And, even after that, the man I just _wanted_. Your scars, your skin. Hands that have hurt people. It’s everything I could ask for.”

“So I’m perfect, but...not perfect?” Gavin asked.

“Yes. And we have something together that I don’t have with anyone else in the world, human or android.”

“Brothers,” said Gavin. The word came out a little tight.

“More than that!” Elijah insisted. “Before my androids were free, they were owned. I owned living beings. I commanded an entire company. I can still have whatever I want, whenever I ask. No one owns me. Except you.”

“Jesus, Elijah.” Gavin scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I don’t _own_ you.” This had to be twice as ludicrous: they were naked and aroused, bickering like they were in the kitchen of the house they grew up in, fighting over the last can of Coke.

Elijah grabbed one of Gavin’s hands. “You do, and you always have. I want it that way.” He drew Gavin forward and pressed the palm of his hand to his own chest. “You were always afraid to tell me what to do because you were younger. Or intimidated.”

Gavin bristled a little at that, but it’s not like it wasn’t true. At times, he’d been flat-out _afraid_ of Elijah’s intellect and ambition.

“Without you, I’m drifting,” Elijah said. “Tell me what to do, Gav, and I’ll do it.”

Although Gavin didn’t a hundred percent believe it—at least the first part—it was too tempting now with the line already crossed and Elijah standing nude and erect and eager...and smooth as a marble statue.

“Stay there a little while,” Gavin said. “I want to look at you.” Skimming his hand along Elijah’s waistline, he walked a slow circuit around him, noting the things that were different, and those that hadn’t changed at all. Elijah was still slightly bowlegged, although the extra mass in his thighs made up for it somewhat. His shoulders weren’t as wide as Gavin’s, but there, again, the muscle made them appear broader and his waist and hips look slimmer. His ass had some pleasing volume now, and the skin looked ungodly soft. Gavin had said before that he wouldn’t hit his brother, but he could easily imagine right then putting him over the edge of the bed and walloping that narrow ass until it glowed. Maybe afterward he could tuck his face right between those silky cheeks and use his tongue until Elijah was whining and clutching the sheets.

Gavin took his brother’s hand—hot palm and cool fingertips—and led him over to the bed. At the edge, he cupped Elijah’s cheek and kissed him again, pushing his tongue firmly into his mouth, forcing him to open wider. Then he nipped at that swollen lower lip. “Want to put that tongue to work?” he mumbled against Elijah’s mouth.

“Yes. Whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Gavin said, running his hands up and down Elijah’s torso.

“ _Tell_ me, Gav.” He looked down briefly, then up again. “Make it—make it an _order_.”

“Why?” Elijah’s weird insistence on being owned or commanded, it might fly in situations like this. But his desperation made Gavin honestly worry he’d want to be propped up like this all the time.

“I need it,” Elijah said. “I’m so tired of making decisions. Every one I make changes everything. Or it changes nothing. Satisfies someone and disappoints someone else. I only want to think about what makes you feel good—what you want, what gets you off—and not _control_ it. I’ll do anything you say, no matter what it is. Even if it’s only for tonight. Make me not have to care, just obey.”

There it was: the strangest and least understandable thing Elijah had said so far. The thing that separated him from the quiet, odd, geeky boy who was somehow still there underneath the upgraded surface. And Gavin thought it was more than a little weird that he was begging for the same thing his androids had been fighting against.

Or maybe it wasn’t so strange. The sentiment wasn’t something Gavin would have understood ten, or even five, years before. Coming up through the ranks of the police force, you took orders, just like army grunts. But making detective, losing the uniform, you got more freedom—but that also meant bigger decisions with a wider effect. Sometimes the effect was life or death. In a way, even if it was a way nobody wanted all the time, it was simpler if someone else gave you instructions.

“Hey,” Gavin said softly. With two fingers, he turned Elijah’s chin to kiss him on the cheek. Then he whispered close to his ear: “Lay on the bed for me.”

Elijah did it right away. Some of his hair had pulled loose from its knot and now trailed over the blanket. It made him look both more vulnerable and much more like the Elijah Gavin remembered.

“You’re going to eat me out,” Gavin said. “If you’re very good, I’ll touch you the way you want.”

At that, Elijah shut his eyes tight and let out a high-pitched whimper. “Mm-hm.”

On the mattress, which was firm and body-hugging and probably cost half of Gavin’s salary, he bracketed Elijah’s shoulders with his knees.

Elijah didn’t wait, but greedily pulled at Gavin’s thighs until he was settled over his mouth.

At the first touch of that soft, warm tongue, Gavin shuddered and clenched his fists. It had been a long time since anyone had done this for him; it was usually him offering.

Elijah was as enthusiastic about tonguing Gavin’s ass as he’d been about sucking his cock. And, _fuck_ , was he powerful—Gavin couldn’t have wriggled out of his grip if he tried.

Before long, he could feel spit running down Elijah’s cheeks and along the insides of his thighs. He was almost hard again, filling out quickly as Elijah kept at it.

For the first time, Gavin did what he’d longed to for decades: he reached out and wrapped his hand around his brother’s stiff cock. Elijah was slightly longer than Gavin but not as thick. Straight and well-shaped. Perfect, like the rest of him.

The move brought a contented noise from between his legs. That sound became desperate when Gavin bent and closed his mouth over the head of Elijah’s cock, swabbing away the slick, salty fluid with his tongue. Gavin couldn’t quite take him as far in, but it didn’t seem to matter. Elijah’s hips bucked and jerked in a helpless, unconsidered way—it was just him fighting for more contact, more pressure.

Even so, he was never so lost in his own pleasure that he forgot about the task Gavin had handed down. He alternated flickering strokes with broad swipes, then stiffened his tongue to push inside.

It was incredible and, to Gavin, it _was_ distracting. He thought for a second about pivoting and sinking down on Elijah’s cock, but his submission was so sweet and tempting that Gavin wanted to fuck him more than anything else.

Gavin put a hand on Elijah’s forearm. “Stop,” he breathed. “Lije, stop.” The iron grip on his thighs eased and Gavin moved away.

Elijah’s eyes were partly closed, the lower half of his face soaked and shining. He whined softly and reached for Gavin. It was almost a _pout_.

Gavin dipped his fingertip into the pool of saliva in the hollow of Elijah’s throat, then pushed the finger past his lips.

Elijah sucked hard on it right away, grabbing Gavin’s wrist.

“You want it so much,” whispered Gavin, trailing the thumb of his free hand through the wetness along Elijah’s jaw line. He bent close again. “I’ll give you what you want, Lije. Let me fuck you.”

The words made Elijah’s eyelids flutter; he pressed his head back against the bed, tipping his chin up and baring his throat. “ _Yes_.”

Gavin pulled his finger free and slid his hand up that long neck, squeezing slightly. The movement below his palm was quick; he could curl his fingers, put more force behind it, cut off Elijah’s breath.

Elijah would take it.

But not now, not tonight.

Even if just for now, Gavin had let go of all of the guilt and misery and self-torture. At that moment, he only wanted to settle himself over Elijah’s warm body and fill him up. Press his forehead to Elijah’s and whisper like he used to so long ago. Take away his burden for a while and make him feel good, make him plead and spurt all over his smooth, pale chest.

Gavin could never be sure that it wasn’t _him_ being pulled along on a leash he couldn’t see, but that had always been the case with Elijah.

Anyway, illusions were just as good as the truth when it didn’t matter which was which.

The duffel bag was still on the bed. Gavin leaned and dug around inside, coming up with the little packet of lube he’d brought in case he needed some solitary relief. After tearing it half-open with his teeth, he squeezed a little out onto his fingers. He had Elijah hug his knees to his chest, trapping his wet, flushed cock between his thighs.

Gavin put a steadying hand on him and slid one finger into Elijah’s body. It went easy, smooth; he knew to relax and accept it. He’d obviously done this, too. Gavin wondered if it had been an android or a man, if with the androids Elijah always did the fucking—or vice versa.

Elijah said his name when Gavin put the second finger in. He worked both right away in a slow rhythm, pulling almost entirely out then pushing back in until his knuckles dented the firm flesh of Elijah’s ass.

He desperately wanted to ask whether Elijah needed more time or another finger, but he was almost entirely sure he’d punt the decision back. Gavin drew his slick fingers out and tapped Elijah’s hands and then the soft insides of his knees, signaling him to open his legs.

With a sigh, Elijah spread them wide and planted his narrow feet on the bed. He was already bearing down—hungry and waiting—when Gavin lined up his cock and started to press inside.

He slipped in with almost no resistance.

Elijah’s mouth dropped open as he took Gavin in, but Gavin held back for a moment or two, watching the delicate skin stretched around his thickness.

Then, he pitched forward like he had so many years ago, drunk and watching cartoons in his shitty apartment. Only this time he meant to, laying his sweat-slick and furred chest over Elijah’s smooth hairlessness. At the same time, he swung his hips forward, driving in as far as possible in one thrust.

Elijah cried out, his fingers skidding across Gavin’s sweaty back, his long legs hitching up and coming to rest alongside Gavin’s ribs.

“That good?” Gavin breathed at his chin. He was a little too short to reach his lips. “That what you need?”

“Yes, Gav...just like that.”

Gavin moved his hips in slow pulses, laying kiss after kiss along Elijah’s collarbones.

In turn, Elijah buried his face in Gavin’s hair, making soft, high-pitched noises.

What little space there was between their bodies was so warm Gavin thought he might see a heat shimmer, like a paved road on a summer day. He backed away a little, bracing his hand on the bed, and grasped Elijah’s cock again.

“I want you to come,” Gavin said. “I’ll tell you when.”

“Please, Gav. Please. Please,” Elijah kept muttering, trailing off into silence.

Gavin stroked him, slow but firm, until he could tell it was a struggle to hold back.

Elijah’s high forehead creased and then smoothed again, over and over. More strands of his hair came loose and fell over his cheeks and shoulders. He could manage only shallow breaths.

“Shh,” Gavin said. “It’s okay. Just a little longer.” He drew out the strokes, loosening his grip a little and watching frustration on Elijah’s face compete with his need to please. Then, after a few moments, he pushed in to the hilt again and gripped Elijah hard. “Go on. Come for me, Lije.”

Elijah shouted and his whole body arched up, bent in a graceful curve from the top of his head to his hips. His cock pulsed in Gavin’s hand and he striped his chest and belly with come, some even landing at the corner of his mouth. When his body stopped straining so wildly, Gavin leaned forward again, holding Elijah’s hips and thrusting, the cooling fluid pressed and smeared between their bodies.

He thumbed the drop of come next to Elijah’s mouth and pushed it between his parted lips.

Elijah sucked it away.

Gavin traced his wet thumb over the curve of those pink lips, then brought their mouths together and kissed deep, seeking out Elijah’s taste on his own tongue.

“Fuck...fuck me...” Elijah whispered when they broke. He cradled Gavin’s head and kissed the sweat-prickled hairline.

Gavin both did and didn’t want to look at Elijah’s face when he spoke the words Gavin knew were coming.

Elijah opened his eyes: new but also entirely the same. He raised his head.

Gavin chose to look.

Elijah brushed his lips over Gavin’s, then stroked his damp hair.

 

“ _Fuck me, little brother_.”

 

Something inside Gavin’s chest clenched almost to the point of pain. His eyes stung. At the same time, though, he slammed his hips forward. After pausing to wrap one arm around Elijah’s thigh, he drove in deep, fast and hard now. His knees slipped in the blankets; he braced one hand against Elijah’s shoulder.

In a moment or two it would all be done.

Gavin lowered his head, eyes shut tight, concentrating for the last few seconds it would take. When he couldn’t keep it back any longer, he raised his chin and cried out, gripping Elijah’s leg and his bicep and emptying into him. It seemed to go on and on: all of the pent-up and pushed-down want let loose after way too long.

He was left breathing hard when it finally ended.

Something wet dropped onto Elijah’s chest. It took Elijah brushing his thumbs over Gavin’s cheeks for Gavin to realize he was weeping.

Elijah used his new strength to break Gavin’s resistance, to pull him down close in a crushing embrace. “It isn’t wrong,” he said. “Remember? _I was made for you_.”

It was a very long time before Gavin rolled away—long after his cock had softened and slipped free to rest limp and wet against Elijah’s skin. Gavin held him, back to his chest, scratching gently through the trails of dried come on his skin.

When it felt safe to sleep, Gavin drifted off with his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://nookienostradamus.tumblr.com/)! Let's talk forbidden pairings ::wink::


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